fetish-dress thrift shop; goodbye, grandma

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I walked into a clothing store or thrift shop with my mother. The store was dim, as if no lights were on in the store and the only light was the light coming in from outdoors. The store felt kind of busy with people.

My mom was, I think, heading to a fitting room to try on some clothes. I was following her, but I got distracted by a rack of clothes near the fitting room. There was a pink gingham dress with a belled out skirt, almost like a cosplay dress, on the rack. The rack was tall, so that the knee-length skirt hung just above my eye level. I was really turned on by the dress and I wanted to try it on, but I didn't want my mom to know I liked wearing dresses, especially sissy-style dresses like this one.

But I continued looking through the rack. The rack was long and nearly empty, so that all the dresses were widely spaced. There was another dress with a pink, gingham style. It had a long skirt in back, but the front of the skirt was sectioned away, as if some other piece of clothing were supposed to be placed underneath it. I felt like this dress must have been intended for fetish, as the shortness of the front seemed to imply a sexual readinesss.

I turnes around the end of the rack and walked along the other side, which was closer to the fitting room. One dress caught my eye. It was like a ballet dress, with a top like a spaghetti-strap tank-top and a tutu that spread out flat and wide. This dress struck me at first as being for a little girl. But then it struck me as being more like a fetish outfit, a sissy's outfit.

The last outfit that caught my eye could hardly be called a dress. It was like a couple of hula hoops connected by a thin skein of gauzy, pink fabric. There was a red sphere near the top of the hoops. I had the feeling that this "outfit" was supposed to express something about atomic physics. But it was also supposed to be a girly, sissyish outfit. I couldn't even figure out how to put the outfit on!

Now my boss JE walked out of the fitting room. It was like he, instead of my mother, had been in there the whole time. We began walking toward the exit of the store. I may have worried about what JE would think of me if he knew that I was into wearing the dresses I'd been looking at. I thought that JE must already have seen me looking at the dresses.

Dream #2

I was with my mother and grandmother in a room like a living room or the waiting room of a hospital. The light was dim and warmly yellow. My grandmother and I sat on a couch. I faced my grandma, who sat huddled up in blankets, maybe sitting cross-legged underneath the blankets. My mom sat somewhere behind me.

My grandma was telling me about an operation she was going to have. She was speaking strangely about this operation, as if she had already died during the surgery, or as if it were almost certain that she would die. She mentioned some of the details about the surgery, which would be on her heart, and why death during the surgery was almost a forgone conclusion.

I didn't want to believe that things were that bad. I wanted to believe there was hope. I said some positive things, hoping to get myself and my grandmother to believe that she would survive/had survived the operation.

But my grandmother stopped me. She said her heart was in really bad condition. She may have told me that the left half of her heart was already or nearly dead. She told me that if she awoke during the operation she would tell the doctors, "Give me the milk!" The milk was, apparently, a chemical that doctors would give their patients to help them die.

I now knew that even my grandma wanted to die. She was resigned and calm about the whole thing. But I was still sad. I said, "Oh, Grandma..." and caressed my grandma's face. My grandma tried to comfort me by touching the hand that caressed her face. But now I realized I was caressing my grandma's face with my foot, not my hand!

process drawback informative

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a hospital. I was in a room like a general practitioner's visiting room, except bigger and a little emptier. The room was probably supposed to be something like a waiting room. I was sitting either on the floor or on a chair very low to the floor.

My mom may just have had some operation, maybe on her heart. I'm pretty sure she was out of the operation, even awake. But she was in some other room. She could only take visitors periodically. This probably had to do with her recovery, like while we weren't allowed to visit her, she was going through some recovery process as dangerous as surgery, through which she may not survive.

My aunt was in the room with me. She held some device, kind of like a cell phone, which allowed her to do something like hear into my mom's room, but not exactly. My aunt was acting concerned for my mom, but then she started acting really strange. I had the feeling she'd get violent about my mom. I didn't want her to be around my mom. But then she was gone. I may have seen her leave through the cluttered area of a dim hospital hallway.

I was back in the room, which was now somehow like a narrow laboratory or kitchen. There were no lights on in the room. The room was illuminated dim blue, like from an early morning sky, except that there were probably no windows in the room.

I received a phone call, maybe on a wall phone, from one of the doctors. He was explaining something to me about the operation a second doctor, maybe named Eric, had done on my mom.

The doctor, who had a kind of Asian accent, said he understood if I was a little concerned about the operation that had been done on my mom. As the doctor explained, I was stirring the dregs of something like hot chocolate in a huge, plastic canister, with something like a wooden spoon.

The doctor explained that the operation was some kind of new technique, a "Japanese" technique. The new techniques were all being performed on patients who couldn't afford regular doctors. The techniques were uncertain, so it was understood that I'd be a little annoyed that my mother had had to go through the new procedure.

I was now going in to visit my mom. I crossed the hallway from my room to my mom's room. The hallway may have been cluttered with workers, all pushing around tall carts like meal-tray carts, except that the carts may have had sheets in them.

My mom's room door was open. I was a little shocked to see that there were a couple carts in my mom's room as well. It was like the workers, maybe even the doctors, were using my mom's room as a storage area, with no regard for her status as a recovering patient.

I peered my way around the carts cluttering my mom's bed. I saw my mom. Apparently, now, this was the first time I'd seen my mom since her operation. She wasn't hooked up to any tubes. But she looked really weak, and I thought she was near death.

My mom lolled her head over to look at me. She then sat up. I noticed how my mom's hair had been cut, so that now it was maybe only 20cm long. I thought my mom would be upset to know the doctors had done that to her, even though I knew the doctors had had no choice: they'd had to cut my mom's hair to put brain-monitors on her skull.

My mom now told me how she was upset about something. She virtually hopped off the bed and onto the floor. I winced. My mom had just had her chest cracked open for a heart surgery. Jostling herself around like that would really injure her wound.

My mom reached up onto some shelf (?) over the counter of a table. She pulled down some kind of signature form. She told me that she was really angry at the doctors, and that she was thinking of suing them.

Before the surgery the doctors had made my mom sign this form. Now my mom had read the back of the form, which had something on it called a "process drawback informative." This meant, my mom said, that the doctors were basically given permission, after the first surgery, to conduct more procedures or to determine other elements of the patient's recovery, regardless of the patient's wishes.

killer shoots self; mother's surgery

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A killer had his potential victim in a hotel room. The hotel room was brightly lit with incandescent light. The victim was sat down against a wall while the killer stood up near a bed.

The killer was a white man, maybe in his late thirties or forties, with a kind of worn face. But he was dressed in something like a sexy female nurse's outfit, and he wore a woman's red-brown wig.

But then, as the killer lifted a gun to the victim's head and gave some weird speech about being killed, the killer's head became all distored, to look like the head of a deformed doll, with strange, plastic, mantis-like eyes popping out of the sides of his head.

In the middle of his speech, the killer shot his gun. The gun was a makeshift, white, plastic gun. But there was something wrong with the gun. And when the killer shot, the bullet came out of the gun backward and hit the killer in the left eye.

The killer had probably just killed himself. But he was dying slowly, and he was still aware of himself. He wandered out of the hotel room, screaming in panic and fear. I saw from his point of view. He was looking down at the ground, which was like asphalt in an alley or a concrete floor in the back hallway of a large building.

Dream #2

My mom had just gone into some medical area to get prepared for a surgery. I was in a waiting room, which was actually a huge warehouse with huge shelves full of stuff like office and industrial merchandise.

An Asian woman (who now reminds me of a woman I worked with about ten years ago on a fire crew in New Mexico) came out to speak with me. She was something like a nurse. But she may also have been a friend of my mom or my whole family.

The woman told me that my mom was really weak coming into this operation, and that that wasn't good news. The doctors had been surprised by how weak my mom had turned out to be. In particular they were worried about something to do with my mom's stomach muscles, which were extremely soft.

As the woman and I spoke about this, we were fumbling around with some tools or some odds and ends of some unconstructed item that lay scattered about on the tops of a few boxes that stood before us in the shadow below a huge shelf. One of the pieces was black metal and looked a little like half of a bicycle pedal.

I was now in a car with my family. The car may have been an SUV, with three or four rows of seats, to accommodate all my sister's children. I was probably in a middle row, probably on the passenger side, looking back to the very back row, or even into the trunk space, where my mother was sitting. My sister or my brother-in-law may possibly have been driving the car.

We were driving my mom to go get surgery. But now my mom mentioned that she had left something at home. We needed to go back home to get whatever my mom needed. It was an inconvenience to go back home. But it was kind of worrisome. Now we might not get to the hospital in time for my mom's surgery.

I was now by myself in a waiting room. My mom had just gone in for surgery. The waiting room was dull, like a storage room or employee break room in a fast food restaurant, with bare, concrete floors and with some small shelves of merchandise against a few of the walls.

My mom had only recently headed in for surgery. But I was already waiting to hear from a doctor or nurse regarding my mom's condition. I knew it was absurd for me to expect to hear something now. I'd have to wait at least an hour to hear something.

But now a doctor came into the room. He was tall, white, with red-tan skin and muscular, but worn, features. He wore green scrubs and a surgery cap.

The doctor introduced himself and implied that he had some news for me about my mom. He then sat down in a desk, possibly a school desk, that backed against a wall like a white, plastic wall that was backlit with a flat, white, fluorescent light.

The doctor spoke to me about some stuff, but it didn't have anything to do with my mom. I couldn't tell for sure, but I thought the doctor was drawing out his conversation, stringing me along, because he enjoyed seeing me in suspense.

The doctor's voice was a little high-flat and prissy, like the voice given to men in stereotypical depictions of gay men. I figured the doctor was gay. He also seemed to be implying, by the subjects he spoke to me about, that he thought I was gay. He at least seemed to know, somehow, that I was an occasional transvestite.

The doctor now had something he thought would interest me and give me a sense of connection with the transvestite community. It was either a pulp novel or the blown up cover of a pulp novel. The novel apparently had something to do with transvestism. The cover was mostly red. It may have depicted a couple of people near a bed.

mother and brother in surgery; snoop lion hospital

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a hospital hallway. I may have just come from an operating room where my mom was in surgery. While I was out in the hallway my Aunt M, who was also in the hallway, received a phone call regarding my brother.

My brother may have come to the hospital with my mother to be with her during surgery. But now my brother had gotten ill. The doctors had taken him and put him into surgery as well. He was in a very bad condition. It was possible that he could die.

My aunt and I walked back into the operating room, where my mom was in surgery, wondering how we would tell my mom, when she woke, about my brother. There were a lot of other family members in the operating room.

My mom was laying on the operating table, unconscious, with an operating sheet over her body, and probably with an opening cut into her body somewhere. But I'm not sure that there were any doctors operating on my mom, or even in the operating room.

Dream #2

I was laying in bed at night. I had a cell phone, maybe an old BlackBerry, pressed to my ear. I was eavesdropping on a conversation between my step grandmother and my aunt M. I don't think I knew how I had managed to get in on their conversation. It surprised me that I could hear them. But now that I could hear them I decided I wanted to keep listening to their conversation, to see what they'd say about me or my mom while they didn't know I was around.

My grandma and my aunt spoke about someone in my immediately family for a moment or two, but only said something kind of vague. They then began speaking about an idea my grandma had to start a restaurant. My grandma said that she was really feeling the urge again to do the restaurant. But she needed the commitment from my aunt, that my aunt would commit to working at the restaurant. In the past my aunt had committed to working, but then had gone back on her commitment.

I rolled over onto my right side. My aunt was now standing over me, still talking on the phone with my grandma. My aunt had come to wake me up so we could go take care of something. I didn't want her to see me on the phone, eavesdropping on her conversation.

I sat up in bed. I was now in a bed in a hospital room. My mom sat in a chair on the right side of the room, near a window that had Venetian blinds. My aunt was in the room, but she left immediately, needing to go take care of something. When my aunt left, she left the door wide open.

I was some kind of worker in the hospital, not necessarily a doctor, maybe something more like an administrator. But people thought I was really smart, and I thought I was really smart, too.

Someone may have mentioned that there were one or two celebrities in the hallway. I didn't want to stand up and look for them. They didn't sound like celebrities I was interested. So I didn't feel like making the effort.

Then I heard a bunch of little kids screaming with delight. Somehow the news got to my room that Snoop Dogg was walking through the hallway. There were a bunch of elementary school kids out in the hallway -- like this hospital also had a wing that was an elementary school, or like the kids were on a field trip to the hospital. They had seen Snoop Dogg in the hallway. He was just trying to be low key. But the kids had seen him and gone crazy. Now they were all surrounding him.

I stood out of my bed to look through the windows and see what was going on. I thought I'd even go out and see Snoop Dogg for myself. I thought he was pretty cool. But I was only wearing my black boxer-brief underwear. I couldn't go out like this. But, for some reason, I also felt like it would be impossible, or at least a really big effort, for me to get dressed.

There was a computer on a desk before the Venetian blinds. I clacked around on the keyboard for a moment, apparently working with some data that somebody needed regarding whatever my job at the hospital was. I then looked out the window. Across some kind of empty space was another window, which looked into the hallway with the schoolkids and Snoop Dogg.

Snoop had been kneeling among this gaggle of white, pale-blonde children. He now stood up. He was tall, but not as tall as I'd expected him to be. He also looked a bit pale. His complexion was flat and a little pasty. He also looked a little bit like a teenager, with kind of naive eyes. His hair was undone, all puffy, puffing out from the back of his head. Snoop wore an old, worn-out windbreaker jacket that was blue on the torso and black on the sleeves, with swatches of white, maybe near the pecs and shoulder blades.

hospital television

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I woke up in a hospital. I got up and began walking around the hallways. The first hallway I walked through was golden with sunlight. There were people all around. But I didn't feel crowded. Everybody was taking care of their own business. I felt like I was left to myself.

I had apparently had some sort of surgery. I may have woken up from the surgery, or I may have woken up from a long convalescence following my surgery.

People may have been worried whether I'd survive at all. But now I seemed to be completely fine. I may actually have been looking for a doctor or nurse. I may have thought that I was going to be checked out of the hospital this morning.

I wandered down another hallway, possibly on the opposite side of the building. from the hallway I'd been walking down. This hallway was much dimmer. The sun didn't reach through the hospital rooms out into the hallway as it did on the other side of the building.

I wandered into a room where a father and a couple of his children were sitting on a couple beds and watching TV. The room was bright with daylight. I could see through a window to the suburban street below. The father and children didn't seem sick. I had the feeling they were actually waiting for the mother of the family to get well.

I think I had been looking for a doctor in this room. Since I hadn't found one, I walked out and into another room. This room was near the first room, but on the adjacent corner with the other room. This room was a bit dimmer than the first room.

There were people in the room, and the attitude -- one of waiting for somebody -- seemed to be like that of the first room. But one of the people in this room was definitely ill and being treated. This person may actually have been gravely ill. I wasn't as interested in this room as I'd been in the first room. So I left.

I walked back into the first room. I may have paid more attention to the room this time. The room seemed to be divided -- only by means of room shape and a couple square columns in the room -- into two distinct halves. The father and kids sat on two beds in the left half of the room. The family watched a television set that stood in the right half of the room.

I looked down to the family. The beds had only white sheets on them. The family was all sprawled out and relaxed. The father may have been in his mid thirties, a little chubby, but kind of worn-out looking.

One of the kids caught my eye. She was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old. She was tiny and skinny, with short, blonde hair. She lay on her stomach on the bed. She wore only a tiny t-shirt and a pair of pink panties.

The sight of the girl's bottom was arousing me. I decided to look away from the girl, so I wouldn't get in trouble with the dad. I stood behind one of the square columns, kind of to hide from the family, so they wouldn't even be aware that I was in the room.

I looked toward the TV. Something about the TV made me think that this room was a common room. I may have thought that any room in the hospital that had a TV in it was a common room.

The TV was playing some kind of children's channel. Somehow I managed to get the idea of what a few different shows on this channel were like. All the shows seemed to be live-action, studio-style shows, like the old Nickelodeon show You Can't Do That on Television. But many of them also had an anime-like, or Power Rangers-like, edge to them somehow.

I was really interested in seeing more of these shows. But I started to get the feeling that if I stuck around watching children's programming for too long, somebody would accuse me of being a pervert. I wondered myself whether I was a pervert for liking children's shows. But I somehow justified myself to myself by saying that I was planning on subscribing to this channel as soon as I got home.

I walked out of the room and back down the dim hallway. It suddenly occurred to me that I'd been away from my own room for a long time now. I could imagine my room, with some of my clothes, and possibly some kind of round-brimmed camping or fishing hat, folded up on my bed.

I thought to myself that in the time I'd been gone, the doctors may have come looking for me. They may have wanted to check me out of the hospital. But if I was away from my room for too long, they'd decide they'd need to come back later on to check me out. In that case I'd have to wait for hours to get out of here. I may already have missed my chance to leave. But, I told myself, if I hurried back to my room I could possibly catch someone who could check me out.